August didn't really know why he was here, except that there was not much to do in the winter months and he was, still, very lonely; and also, he needed to find things to do so that he could not spend time thinking about Freya and about the child she was expecting to bear, their child. So: Sonata #7. Balcony seating. Contortionists. He was here and he was still lonely.
Quietly, August headed out of his seat and into the hallway. He paused there. Maybe in the lobby, he would find someone he knew? Or - maybe he ought to get a drink? He was starting to understand, finally, why Thom and Leon thought that he should get married - neither of them ever found themselves at orchestral debuts alone, now. (Leon had never been alone even before he was married, and was probably rarely at events in a dark theater with Elsbeth, but that wasn't the point.)
He was still thinking on this, and not paying attention, when the girl tripped on his cane. The jolt to the object sent August unsteady, and with a bolt of pain to his right leg. His breath hissed through his teeth and he turned: "Are you all right, Miss?"
Quietly, August headed out of his seat and into the hallway. He paused there. Maybe in the lobby, he would find someone he knew? Or - maybe he ought to get a drink? He was starting to understand, finally, why Thom and Leon thought that he should get married - neither of them ever found themselves at orchestral debuts alone, now. (Leon had never been alone even before he was married, and was probably rarely at events in a dark theater with Elsbeth, but that wasn't the point.)
He was still thinking on this, and not paying attention, when the girl tripped on his cane. The jolt to the object sent August unsteady, and with a bolt of pain to his right leg. His breath hissed through his teeth and he turned: "Are you all right, Miss?"